A Touch of Brimstone (Magic of the Damned Book 1)

by McKenzie Hunter

  More evaluation took place. I felt sure they were speculating whether this cause was worth their life. They’d lost two already with nothing to show for it.

  “Helena.” Dominic nodded at her and she moved aside, allowing the magically neutered witch to stand.

  Dominic released Rei, I assumed as a sign of good faith or to show that she was not a threat to him. He hadn’t restricted her magic.

  “Has there been any contact between Roman, Celeste, or Vadim?” He directed the question to everyone in the room.

  Their jaws clenched in a mutual demonstration of allegiance. Dominic inched in Rei’s direction.

  With ire, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “You won’t get any information from me. Are you afraid you’ll feel the sting of Roman’s claws, or is it Celeste’s magic that you fear? You have no immunity to it, do you? I hope it’s Roman’s claws that get you both.” She snapped her head in Helena’s direction.

  The tight air of contention filled the room. She’d struck a nerve—pointed out their weakness.

  The front door of the store blasted open, and strong magic flooded in with the group of seven people who entered with practiced efficiency and military precision. Magic reminiscent of when I was in the room with the Conventicle burst in. Powerful. Heavy. And undeniably hostile.

  Friend or foe?

  I could see the lack of recognition on Dominic’s face before the woman at the front of the group fired three gunshots at him. He darted to the left, barely missed being hit by bullets that blew the plaster from the wall. Dominic returned fire. A menacing red glow of magic pummeled into the woman’s chest. She crumpled to the ground. Dominic was moving faster than the other people could target him.

  Rei realized too late that despite their attack on Dominic, this new group weren’t allies. She was ensorcelled in a bubble, blue and white intermingled, giving way to smokey black. Her oxygen was being choked off as the magic-wielding newcomer efficiently pulled it from her. Rei collapsed, her face distorted by her struggle. Her lips were losing their rosy color and her face blanched. Small lines formed across her eyes from broken capillaries. Dead.

  The vampire was locked in a frozen state. I could only assume this was necromancer magic. Power over the dead. The vamp wore his helplessness with a tight-lipped scowl. I didn’t avert my eyes fast enough to miss his demise by beheading. This wasn’t an idealistic group of people like the Awakeners; they were trained assassins. Magically powerful and brutally efficient.

  The assassins’ precision seemed to unleash something in Helena. The vampire body hadn’t become dust on the floor before Helena had its assailant’s head twisted at an odd angle that no one could survive. Anand was a whirlwind of movement, lithe and deadly. I still hadn’t been able to determine if he was immune to magic, or so swift that no one could use it against him.

  I chanced a glance in Dominic’s direction. A thrown ball of magic breezed over my shoulder, barely missing me as I dove to the floor. My head hit a toppled bookcase. I was a little dazed, but I fared better than the wall with the hole punched through it. That could have been me.

  Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed a piece of the metal wizard collector’s item and threw it at the magic wielder, hitting him in the head as he prepared for another strike against me. Shock and anger took over his face.

  Running out of items heavy enough to be of use, I searched around while moving in a zigzag to prevent being in his line of sight. I whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind me. I threw a charred hardback, but the shifter dodged it. Her menacing approach was measured and taunting. I kept my eyes fixed on hers, looking for the spark that seemed to light their eyes before they changed. If the others were so efficient with their magic, would this shifter be just as skilled at changing without the identifying precursor?

  Anand lunged at her, knocking her to the ground and holding her down in her partial shift to tiger.

  I continued to ease back, taking myself out of the crossfire, hoping to melt into the background. My mind was rampant with thoughts. They’d killed the Awakeners. Were they there to also kill Anand, Dominic, and Helena?

  Convinced they wanted to kill me, too, I scanned the room for an escape route. There was an emergency exit to the left of the store and another exit leading to the alleyway in the employee lounge. From my position, they were an equal distance apart, obstructed by toppled bookshelves, bodies, and debris. I chose the employee lounge.

  Before I could run, I felt the intensity of eyes on me. Two pairs turned in my direction. Helena saw it a moment before I did. One of them, a man in his mid-fifties, moved toward me. The cold gleam in his eyes and the cruel curl of his lips belied his gentle, paternal appearance. How often was his lethality underestimated by his appearance? With a slight flick of the man’s hand, I slammed back into the wall. His magic held me firmly against it. I strained, trying to tear away. His hands were rigid in front of him.

  Was Helena afraid to challenge him? Why was she just standing there doing nothing? Out of my periphery, I saw Dominic speeding toward the man, whose chest caved in from the impact of Dominic’s punch. Dominic was just a blur as he twisted, avoiding the knife hurled from the center of the room. Without losing his speed, he sent what looked like a fiery arrow in the attacker’s direction. Dominic was the embodiment of puissance and violence. It worked to my advantage at the moment, but I was witnessing his unrestrained power, what he could do. This was why the Conventicle feared and hated him.

  The affable-looking man gurgled out a strangled gasp for breath that wouldn’t come. His struggle to hang on to life seemed to take too long, the shock of his demise slowly registering on his face. Helena taking a knife to his throat seemed like a mercy killing. She chose that over dealing with the man standing near her, who shot a sphere of magic straight at me. I dropped to the floor and flattened my body against it and watched as it hit the illuminated wall that surrounded me.

  The shock of his failure registered briefly before Dominic was behind him. He wrenched the man’s head to the side, and the man dropped.

  My breath came at short shallow clips. The violence was horrific. Dominic was violence. Period. A powerful reminder of my goal: do whatever was necessary to untangle myself from him and this world.

  Dominic stepped forward, examining the cocoon of magic that surrounded me. He pressed his hand against it then quickly jerked away. Amber seized his eyes, and his face strained as he tried unsuccessfully to dismantle it. After several attempts he was joined by Helena, who circled it, examining it, and jerking back at the pain from touching it.

  “This isn’t witch magic.”

  Dominic grimaced. He was searching the destroyed room, moving quickly throughout the space, opening doors, moving anything large, when the cocoon of magic fell.

  Left in the room was just Anand, who was on the phone, Helena, who stayed close to me, examining the space where I’d been enclosed in magic, and Dominic, who kept searching through the store for something or someone he hadn’t revealed.

  I was preoccupied with picking up broken ceramic pieces. Engaging in the useless act of trying to clean up. I had to do something, no matter how futile.

  “Your arrogance will be your failure,” Madeline said as she entered the room with several other people. Her gentle tone was diametrically opposed to the harshness of her scowl.

  Startled by her presence, I was again unnerved by the ease in which they navigated the world undetected.

  My eyes followed hers as she took in the state of the store: the bodies, the blood, the evidence of extreme violence. Then her eyes rested on the trash bag I was holding and the pieces of broken ceramic in my hands.

  “Leave it. We will handle that,” she instructed me. She directed the rest to Dominic. “Zana will take care of the cameras,” Madeline told him, shooting me a harsh look before nodding to a woman with a purple pixie cut, shorts, an oversized shirt with strategically placed rips, and an ankle-length cardigan. A crescent moon and stars tattooed her
neck, and the boredom with which she walked through the store was in stark contrast to Madeline’s intensity.

  Moving her hand in rhythmic circular motions, Zana whispered an incantation as she moved through the space. The same iridescent glow flitted over the room where I knew there were cameras. She was precise and methodical. Techno-witch. Once she’d gone through the store, she went through the coffee shop and all the surrounding stores.

  “Is she erasing them?” I asked Dominic.

  “No, she’s changing what will be shown.”

  “If Cameron already saw it, she’ll know it was changed.”

  He shook his head. “She won’t. Zara’s the best techno-witch because she leaves no evidence,” he admitted quietly.

  “Or rather, there’s an illusion or compulsion spell with her magic. We’re just pawns whose minds you manipulate on a whim,” I spat out.

  He stood taller, his hand shoved in his pocket, ignoring my barb.

  “What about this?” I waved my hand around. “You can’t just make this go away, magic it away with illusions and manipulations. These are real things that were destroyed. Real consequences because of this. How much more do the people I care about have to suffer because of the supernaturals?”

  “That’s enough, Luna,” he snapped.

  “Enough. Yes, I’ve had enough.”

  Anger had clouded all rational thought. I marched off, needing to get away from reminders of my predicament and another attempt on my life. I was furious at the supernaturals treating our lives and minds like game pieces to be manipulated at will to win whatever game they were playing.

  The thrum of magic that brushed against my skin as I stared out the window seemed foreboding, now that I knew what it was. Before, I’d ignored the breeziness of air, viewed a slight fluctuation in the energy as innocuous—just my mind playing tricks on me, a stuffiness in a room that needed to be ventilated. There was something quite ominous about an area that was usually bustling around this time of day, now that no one was around. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Magic. It was all magic, and I hated it. I just needed to fix the situation. How?

  Fixing the situation consumed me as people entered the store and left, and I took in more magic-drenched air. Watching the orchestrated removal of all evidence of supernatural existence left me awestruck. The cleanup crew. The people behind the machine who had done this so often, it was a methodical and efficient system.

  Dominic’s placid face of indifference confirmed this was just another day for them. Murder a bunch of people, destroy a store, set books on fire—no problem, I got you covered.

  Repulsed, I went outside, several feet from the store. Stared at the markings on my finger.

  “Undo,” I whispered.

  “Luna.”

  I turned to see Jackson, who had been compelled to go home. I wondered, like the witch’s curse, whether the compulsion broke when the vampire died. He eased toward me, the arrogance and self-assurance muted, genuine concern and curiosity filling his eyes.

  “Can we talk?”

  “About what?” I asked. Magic? Because if you remember it, hell yeah, let’s discuss it. I was desperate enough to even collaborate with him. He’d become the lesser of two evils.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, you seem like you could use someone to talk to,” he said. “Let’s get a drink.”

  Alarms went off. Apprehensive, I took several steps back. “Maybe another time.”

  Something was off and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  He grasped my arm. “It doesn’t have to be a drink. Coffee?” He pointed in the direction of the Starbucks a few blocks away. His grip tightened at my attempt to tug out of his hold.

  “Is everything okay?” Dominic asked.

  Jackson released my arm.

  “Everything is fine.” The contempt Jackson had for Dominic was the only thing consistent about him. “You know where to find me, if you need me,” Jackson entreated. Hints of desperation lingered in his voice as concern flooded his eyes.

  Dominic pressed his hand to my back. Warmth crept along it, and I stayed in place as Jackson warily backed away, his shoulders drooped.

  Things were indeed a mess if I was contemplating going to Jackson for help despite something being noticeably off about him. For a brief moment, I thought he could provide something Dominic couldn’t. Not quite safety—maybe a neutral zone? Or perhaps it was just familiarity. That’s what it was. Despite his recent unsavory role in my life, the weirdness going on with him, he was a version of normal, and nothing I was experiencing was anywhere near that now.

  I wanted somewhat normal, even if it was in the company of Jackson.

  17

  I navigated from my world to Dominic’s massive estate in a fugue state, unable to get Jackson’s look of defeat out of my mind. It was as if he’d failed to stop an accident. Despite his unsettling mien, his insistency was protective. Even Helena’s searing glare as I passed her in the home’s entrance, arms crossed over her chest, couldn’t pull me out of my state and my debate over whether I should have left with him.

  She extended her arms to her brother, showing him her magic-restricting sigils, her lips a thin tight line. “Remove it,” she demanded.

  Helena sneered at Dominic’s hollow and dispassionate expression as he approached his sister.

  “You’re not nearly as clever and sneaky as you believe yourself to be. Your slow reaction wasn’t for deliberation; it was to provide him the opportunity to kill Luna. The second one, you weren’t aiding me; it was a chance for him to finish where the first one had failed,” he said in a low, carefully controlled, rough voice. “They nearly killed Luna, and that was your intention.” He turned on his heels, striding past me, leaving me in her crosshairs. Her features wilted into a sullen look of disappointment before it snapped into anger, which she directed at me.

  “Don’t you dare be smug,” she snarled. She had definitely misread my expression. Not smug. Shock. I had given her the benefit of the doubt. I knew in the moment of fighting and chaos, it was hard to prioritize and errors in judgment were inevitable. But they hadn’t been errors—they were opportunities for my assassination.

  Her movements were like the strike of a serpent, quick and deadly as she devoured the space between us. Refusing to cower, I squared my shoulders and met her blazing, spiteful eyes.

  “Don’t be too confident in Dominic’s protection. He only seeks to capture and destroy the only person whose magic rivals ours. This is not an act of altruism. It’s ego-driven and nothing more. When he finds you have no value to him and aren’t a means to a satisfying end, he’ll go nuclear.” Her nails swiped across my neck. I knew she wished she had her claws. “Then there will be no more Luna.”

  Stepping away, I said, “You mean, magic that rivals his. You no longer have magic.” Turning from her, I kept looking forward, feeling her hard stare boring into me. I didn’t care about her or her hate-laced glares. If she attacked me, I was going to fight dirty. I wasn’t above using the tried-and-true windmill tactic. I was bound to land at least one good blow.

  Dominic hadn’t waited for me, which was probably best. I needed some time alone to process everything. Making my way to the room where I’d stayed before, it surprised me to find Dominic seated in the chair, legs spread, deep in thought. His eyes slowly moved to mine. The raw depths held a level of unrestrained violence and calculating intensity that supported Helena’s comments.

  He rose from his chair like a numinous wave. Not only had an attempt on my life been made, but one on his as well.

  I pointed to my overnight bag, which I hadn’t considered when we were leaving the store. It had the Trapsen and the knife in it. Placed in my locker, I didn’t fear it would be taken. If found, it would probably be by someone who had no idea what it was. But I felt better knowing that a pathway to the Underworld was no longer in my locker—secured only by a padlock. And since Dominic had it, not one vulnerable to supernatural lock picking.

  “M
y bag,” I said, hoping to start some dialogue because him motionlessly watching me was off-putting.

  He nodded, not offering anything more of an explanation.

  “What’s going to happen to Books and Brew? There’s no way magic can fix that.”

  I’d seen the height of it, but illusions could only go so far. Could magic replicate the scorched books, renew the destroyed display shelves and bookcases? Or the blood, vampire dust, and fog of powerful magic I was convinced lingered in the room?

  Dominic had settled into silence as he stood in front of me. It ticked on so long that I didn’t think he’d answer.

  “This isn’t the first time we have had to handle something like this. It will look like a random act of property destruction. There will be recompense for loss of income. The store will be back to normal in three or four days.”

  “How much of this efficiency will be a result of mind manipulation and compulsion? Making people perform for the magical puppet masters.”

  He blinked once, his fiery amber eyes an abyss that was hard to pull from. “Do you have other options? If so, do tell.”

  The fact that I didn’t frustrated me even more.

  “You wear your thoughts on your face,” he told me.

  “Good, then you know how exasperating and overwhelming all of this is.”

  He closed the distance between us, putting me face to face with him. The continued silence, taut as a stretched rubber band, remained between us. When it snapped, would I be verbally sparring with the Prince of the Underworld?

  The light touch across my cheek was a contrast to the intense, painful-looking scowl that did nothing to diminish his appealing features. It enhanced it—a cruel beauty.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked. “The bruise,” he added, answering my confused look. I shook my head; it had just merged with all my other aches and bruises. With the adrenaline gone, I felt them even more.

  “Why didn’t you leave with him?”

  “As if that was a choice. Remember, I only have the illusion of choice.”